


My Enemy, My Lover

by thereyoflight



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, Angst and Tragedy, Attempted Murder, Blood and Injury, Enemies to Lovers, Enemy Lovers, F/M, Flashbacks, Force Visions, Heavy Angst, Hurt Michelle Jones, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Manipulation, Internal Conflict, Lightsaber Battles, Lightsabers, Loss of Parent(s), Master & Padawan Relationship(s), Michelle Jones Needs a Hug, Minor Character Death, Non-Graphic Violence, Parent Death, Power Dynamics, Seduction to the Dark Side, Spideychelle Week 2020, The Dark Side of the Force, The Force, The Force Ships It, The Light Side of the Force, Threats of Violence, Villains to Heroes, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:14:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24928978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thereyoflight/pseuds/thereyoflight
Summary: A new threat to the galaxy has risen. Peter finds himself tangled in a mess of war, loss, and undeniable purpose, and through it all, the mysterious Midnight Daughter seems to be entwined in it with him. Equals on opposite sides, they are forced to face each other, and astonishingly, a terrible truth between them.
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, petermj - Relationship, spideychelle - Relationship
Kudos: 14
Collections: Spideychelle Week 2020





	My Enemy, My Lover

**Author's Note:**

> Mind the tags, please!
> 
> The dynamic between Peter and MJ in this work is inspired heavily by Cal Kestis and Trilla Suduri in Jedi: Fallen Order, as well as Ben Solo and Rey in the Star Wars Sequel Trilogy. If neither of those dynamics or ships are your thing, or any of the tags aren't your thing, proceed with caution and be warned. I find those dynamics to be interesting to explore and so I wanted to with this prompt, but I also understand that this isn't for everyone. 
> 
> Just a small disclaimer.
> 
> Besides that, here's my take on Day Six of Spideychelle Week 2020: Enemies to Lovers!

After the infinite darkness, Peter opened his eyes to blinding light.

At first, he’s not sure where he is or even who he is. Fluorescent lights lit the room he was in, and he caught sight of gray walls, touches of blues and reds from things too blurry to see. There’s the sound of light footsteps behind him, and just by the shadow of turmoil itching at the back of his head, it all comes rushing back in overwhelming clarity.

Peter could almost feel the ache in his legs as he had run in the lush forests of Takodana. He still remembered the cool touch of the blaster in his hands. He could still feel the weighing dread in his chest for what was coming, but he hadn’t expected the source of it to be _her_.

 _Peter waited until expectancy in the forest, his blaster raised at the ready. He heard the hum of her saber igniting before he saw her, and when she appeared, he’d been stunned. What should’ve stunned him was the violent red glare of her double-bladed saber or the mask that obscured her face, making her appear alike to a reaper or death itself. Instead, what had stunned him was the utter_ relief _that shot through him at the sight of her, as if his soul was recognizing hers._

_And for the slightest second, he swore, she paused in recognition. He shot at her with his blaster, and her saber blocked each one. Then, she reached a hand out and Peter froze in place. He pushed back against invisible restraints, but found himself unable to move. She approached him with grace and curiosity._

_“The boy I’ve heard so much about,” she said, her voice filtered heavily through the mask._

_Peter had seen her before in a nightmare, in a daydream._

_He had heard whispers of her among locals on all the planets he’d been on across the galaxy. The commander of the First Order, beneath the Supreme Leader, that harnessed abhorrent power. The Midnight Daughter, they called her, for she brought darkness wherever she walked._

_He had always scoffed at the name, but now, he trembled._

He could still feel the press of her touch along his mind, barely a graze that left him nauseated, but left her with everything she needed to know. And then, the splintering, white-hot pain that shot through his mind like a blaster shot, and darkness had swallowed him whole. 

With a start, Peter realized he was trapped in some contraption. His body was angled almost to a standing position, but not quite, and his ankles and arms were held in position by metal restraints. _An interrogational, torture contraption,_ Peter realized with horror.

A silhouette of darkness appeared before him, stepping out from behind him. The Midnight Daughter’s head was turned toward his as she stepped around him, the red glint in her mask sending shivers down his spine. The sound of her footsteps in the room echoed with apprehension. 

“Sleep well?” Her voice came out mangled and machine-like from the dark mask that obscured her face, and her words shot through him with such ferocity that he nearly shuddered. She had stepped before him nonchalantly, without threat, but Peter knew it was a simple facade. His eyes blazed dangerously, and anger coursed through him like a fire. “You still want to kill me,” she observed. 

Peter didn’t waver. “That happens when you’re being hunted by a creature in a mask,” he spat. 

The Midnight Daughter observed him for a moment, and though he couldn’t see her eyes, he could feel her gaze snaking across his face. Her hands rose to grasp the mask, and with a hiss, the mask was taken off.

She was beautiful. Her dark, curly hair cascaded down her shoulders elegantly, and her eyes were a piercing brown. Everything about her—the slope of her nose, the curve of her lips, the sharpness in her cheekbones, even the shape of her figure—seemed crafted from perfection itself. Peter gaped in disbelief. He was taken aback by how young she was, as young as him, and he couldn’t help wondering how she had become what she was.

She slammed her mask down and approached him. His eyes followed her path, his throat constricted in his breathlessness. He tore his eyes away from her. She stepped close to him, so close that he could feel the heat of her body, and he clenched his fists. The feel of her eyes on him in the silence almost burned. 

Something hung in the air, pressing in on them, and Peter couldn’t place what it was.

“Tell me about the droid,” she said.

“He’s a BB unit with a selenium drive and a thermal scan indicator—,” Peter began, but she cut him short.

Her eyes left his. “He’s carrying a section of a navigational chart, and we have the rest, recovered from the archives of the Empire, but we need the last piece,” she said calmly, “and somehow, you convinced the droid to show it to you.” 

Peter blinked, a realization forming in his mind as to where this was going. 

Her gaze fell over him again. “You,” she said, almost taunting. He would have thought she was disapproving of him, looking down on him, if it weren’t for the curiosity that hung heavily between them. He realized that she, too, felt something moving between them, something she couldn’t figure out. “A hidden Jedi Padawan.”

Peter wasn’t looking at her, but at the wall in front of him.

“Who was your Master, young Padawan?” she continued. “Someone I killed, perhaps?”

He didn’t reply. He felt a sudden shift in the air, a mix between dissatisfaction and discomfort for what was to come. It puzzled him. 

“Something got your tongue?” she taunted. “No bother. If you won’t give me the words, I’ll claw them out myself.” She leaned closer. “You know I can take whatever I want.” 

He met her eyes with coldness. “Then I don’t have to tell you anything,” Peter challenged. 

She chuckled darkly, as if surprised by his courage. Her hand lingered over his head, and Peter felt the familiar touch of her across his mind. It reminded him of the graze of nails on skin, and he shuddered. The graze turned from threatening to violent as an unforeseen force pierced through him, and he gasped. 

_The desert stretched out before him, seemingly void of any life, much like he felt himself. He walked along the sand dunes, the sun beating down on his skin. He wasn’t fond of traveling to planets with such harsh climates, but he was content enough to know the stay wouldn't last long. None of them ever did._

_The scene changed. Peter was in his Master’s ship, the only home he’d come to know, aching loneliness leaving a lump in his throat. A wall of scratched lines peered back at him, a reminder of how long ago he had lost his parents and almost a promise of how alone he’d always be. It was a forever weight in his chest, one that even his Master couldn’t help ease._

“You’re so lonely,” she observed, and her voice tinged on near sympathy. “So afraid to leave. At night, desperate to sleep. So much anger in you, so much pain.”

Peter pushed back against her grip in his mind. He was shaken by how easily she had pierced through him, but he wasn’t willing to let it be so easy. “Get—out—of—my—head.”

“I know you’ve seen the map,” she said, stepping back with her hand extended toward his head. “It’s in there, and now, you’ll give it to me.”

The map to the last Jedi, the final hope in the galaxy. 

Peter held firm in his mind, and he felt the pressure of her presence invading. He held her stare, unrelenting, as a new strength ran through his veins. And there it was again, he recognized. Some otherworldly _thing_ between them, tying them together in some way and teeming with energy. It was something he had never experienced before. He wasn’t sure what it was, but the unknown of it made his chest tighten with fear.

“Don’t be afraid,” she said, as if reading his thoughts, “I feel it, too.”

He panted against her force as she pushed deeper, harder, into his mind, but Peter held all the strength he could. “I’m not giving you _anything_ ,” he gasped out.

Her smile dripped with darkness. “We’ll see.”

The Midnight Daughter shoved at his mind, and Peter grunted in the effort to keep her at bay. It was nearly painful to keep her out, but he would hold as long as he could. He felt her surprise, then, as she seemingly bumped into a wall in his mind. She looked struck and peered in further, only to be met with the same blockade. Peter smiled in satisfaction as he suddenly found himself in _her_ mind. 

“ _You_ ,” he crooned, and he was surprised by how foreign his voice sounded to him, as if he were another person entirely. “You’re afraid… that you’ll never be as strong as the Supreme Leader.”

She dropped her hand with a gasp and stumbled back in shock. Her eyes were wide and she panted for air. Peter only stared at her, at how swiftly he turned her attack against him against her. Without another word, she slipped away from the chamber, leaving him alone. Just from the look on her face, he knew that this—this retaliation—was something that had never happened to her before. 

She had brought in a wolf disguised as a rabbit, and now, she had met her match. 

+

Peter’s legs burned as he ran uphill, toward the endless forest ahead. Snow clung to the trees, and the cold cut through him like a knife. Starkiller Base was on the verge of collapse by the hands of the Resistance, and he had to find a way off the planet before he went down with it. A way back to his Master, to Tony. He’d gotten lucky enough to escape, honing on what Force training he’d had, but he knew it wouldn’t be long for someone to be on his tail.

His estimation was shorter than expected. 

Peter stopped short. The Midnight Daughter stood before him, awaiting his arrival. “Going somewhere?” she asked, igniting her lightsaber. “We’re not done yet.”

His hand flew to his side where his own lightsaber was strapped to his side. He unlatched it and ignited it without a second thought, bathing his face in illuminating blue light. There was a hesitancy in his stance as he lifted the saber, but he couldn’t pretend he knew exactly what he was doing. He had been trained with it, as any Padawan would be, but even then, he’d never been a fast learner. He had never been forced to fight with a saber before in self-defense, and he had to admit, he didn’t think this fight would last long.

The point was that he’d go down fighting.

She smiled darkly. “Very well, then,” she said. “We’ll do this the hard way.”

Her face contorted into an expression of beautiful determination, terrible in reality, but stunning in any other sense. She raced toward him, and Peter’s saber met hers in defense. She relented, and attacked again and again, pushing Peter back with every clash of their sabers. He, overwhelmed with his losing strikes and feeble attacks, turned and ran further into the forest. He heard the saber cut clean through a tree, and afterward, the thud of it falling against the snow. She was fast on his heels, a fire of youthfulness and power, and he turned in time to meet another strike. 

The ground shook beneath their feet, and Peter turned his head to see the ground falling away behind him. The Midnight Daughter attacked, blocked by Peter once again, but the force of the attack was so strong that it left him stumbling. She advanced on him, her eyes suddenly void of their warmth, and it took all of Peter’s willpower to meet her next strike. She pressed into him and Peter’s feet approached the edge of the cliff, where the ground had given way. 

Peter stole a glance to the edge, saw the darkness that seemed to rise up to him, and turned back to the Midnight Daughter. The clash of their sabers enveloped their faces in a stunning mix of colors—blue, red, pink, and purple—and Peter was taken aback by it. How could he find someone so adamant on murdering him to be so beautiful?

“We aren’t so different, you and I,” the Midnight Daughter yelled, her eyes glowering at him. “I can show you the ways of the Force.”

Peter’s brows furrowed. “The Force?”

But her voice and her words were unmistakable. She sensed raw, untamed power in him, and she was offering him the opportunity to learn more than he’d ever had. To go off _with_ her. 

Peter closed his eyes and focused. He opened himself up to whatever was there like his Master had taught him time and time again. He sensed the Midnight Daughter, alive with her anger and power and _pain_ , and he sensed something more. Something reaching out to him, something he welcomed in, something that guided him. 

He opened his eyes, his body enveloped in a newfound strength, and attacked. She wavered in surprise, and he charged forward. Her saber met his, but she stumbled back by the strength in the attack. Peter swung his saber downward, across her knees, and she jumped back to avoid the strike. His saber cut a piece of her cloak clean off, and she fell to her knees from her dodge. She yelled in anger, rising to her feet, and aiming for a deathly blow. He was faster, blocking her hit with a swift movement, and shoving her back with a kick to her chest. 

A tension hung in the air, seeping through his very bones. It built with every second that trickled by, and while he watched her on her hands and knees in the snow, growling in anger, it gave way. It was as if her mind connected with his.

_The little girl screamed in horror as her parents were struck down. Her village was burning in flames, all of her childhood and security lifted away with the smoke. It caught in her lungs, choking her, strangling her with burden and despair. She turned away from the white-clad soldiers, the ones who’d taken her parents, and ran as fast as her little legs would take her._

_“Don’t let her get away!” she heard behind, but she continued her feeble escape._

_She yelped as her body collided with another, and she fell back from the force of it. She looked up to see a strange, older man. His hair was dark, and his eyes were a striking obsidian. He smiled at her in a friendly manner, but even at such a young age, she could sense the power roiling off him. He leaned down into a crouch and offered his hand to her. “Are you okay?” he asked._

_She hesitantly took his hand and allowed him to lift her to her feet. She shook her head, but the tears that streamed down her cheeks answered the question well enough._

_“No,” the man agreed. “No, of course not.” He reached out and smoothed a hand over her hair gently, deceit in his eyes. She mistook this for kindness. “What’s your name, little one?”_

_“Michelle,” she choked out._

_“Michelle,” he repeated. He wiped at the tears on her cheeks, as a parent would to comfort a child, but his intent was far from comfort. “Okay, Michelle, why don’t you come with me? I’ll get you somewhere safe.”_

_Michelle sniffled and nodded, though she hadn’t realized that the stormtroopers that had been on her tail had stopped before their commander. Before their Supreme Leader._

_The Supreme Leader rose to his feet and took her hand. “Come on now, Michelle,” he said. “We have work to do.”_

_“Work?” she asked, her face tilting up toward his in question._

_He nodded. “Yes, Michelle,” he said. “See, you and I… we’re going to change the galaxy. Just you wait.”_

_Hand in hand, the Supreme Leader led Michelle into shrouding darkness._

Peter grunted as he was brought back to reality, as the Midnight Daughter — Michelle — clawed at the ground to get to her feet. He saw her in an entirely new light, and compassion surged through him. She had been forced to see her parents slaughtered before her eyes, and just when she thought she’d found a savior, he had been anything but. She had been brainwashed into darkness so that she knew no other life, only constant turmoil. Her potential and promise had been warped into a terrible fantasy for a man in power. Peter was flooded with a yearning to avenge that poor, little girl by taking the life of the Supreme Leader, to watch his blood spill to atone for all the pain he’d subjected her to. 

“I’ve seen what you’ve been through,” he pleaded with her. “You’ve been through immense suffering. It’s not too late, Michelle.”

At the sound of her true name, her birth name, she started. “No!” she screamed and swung her saber. Peter met her strike with his own, but she had more training on her side. She shot a hand out toward him and he was forced into the air. His back hit the ground hard, knocking the breath out of him, and he rolled into a crouch. 

He had greatly underestimated her anger.

He shook off his dizziness and stood. They circled around each other in the snow, sabers ready for any attack that could come. Her eyes were as dark as ever, but he could see the conflict that lay behind them. The pain. 

“You’re right,” he said honestly. “We aren’t so different. Let all this pain and suffering go. I know it’s tearing you apart. Come back with me.”

Her voice shook. “You don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“But I do,” he continued, his eyes soft. “I’ve seen your pain, and you’ve seen mine. We are far more alike than you think. Michelle, _please_.”

“ _No_.”

Peter reached out, extending his awareness, and he felt the magnetic pull of one soul to another. It blazed with life, with power, and it reminded him of lightning in a storm. Despite his confusion, he pressed further into it. He nearly gasped at what he felt rushing through her—overwhelming torment, grief, and worst of all, regret. 

“I don’t know what the Supreme Leader told you,” he reasoned with her, “but it’s not true. He’s been leading you down a dark path, and anyone can see that this isn’t what you truly want.”

“You don’t know _anything_ about me.”

“I saw your parents,” he said. “They were murdered in cold blood, but none of that was your fault.”

“ _Stop_ _talking!_ ” she warned.

“It’s not too late to honor them,” he said, and his heart ached painfully as he thought of his own parents. “It’s not too late to do what they would’ve wanted for you. Michelle… it’s not too late to make them proud.”

She screamed out in frustration and attacked again. Peter dodged her attack and swung his saber down. She caught his wrist in a deathly grip, and she swung her own saber up for a killing blow. He took her wrist into his hand to stop her strike. Her saber hissed against the snow as it cut through the ice. They struggled against each other, equals colliding in a tug of war between life and death. His shoulders and thighs burned with the attempt to hold her back, and from the rising scream that left her lips, he knew she was struggling just as much against him. Suddenly, her touch shot through him, and somehow, he felt his own shooting through her. 

_Peter was surrounded by darkness. He looked down at his hands to see a red string wrapped around his pinky finger, extending out into the dark space before him. He followed the trail until his eyes landed on Michelle’s, whose own pinky finger was wrapped at the end of the string._ The red string of fate _, he recognized._

_Then, he was falling for an eternity, his finger still wrapped in the red string, as images flashed through his mind. The sharp clash of saber against saber is heard, and Peter and Michelle fight as enemies in a never-ending dance. The scene changes, and the two turn their backs on each other as they fight alongside one another as allies. And then, relief and longing and love flood through him as they kiss for the first time, as lovers who have found each other at last._

_It was as vivid and clear as life itself._

Michelle faltered. “What was that?” she asked incredulously. But, suddenly realizing her hesitance, she charged. 

Before he realized what was happening, Peter swung his saber up, and he delivered his strike. His saber cut a vicious line across her skin, over her cheek and past her eyebrow. Michelle screamed in pain and landed on the ground, hard. It had been barely a ghost of a strike across her face, but it was a painful one, nonetheless, and one that would leave a scar. 

Peter’s mind raced with the images that had flashed through his mind _and_ hers, as if they were connected somehow. As if they were one and the same.

Maybe they were. 

Michelle’s alluring face was burdened with confusion, and terribly, a thirst for vengeance. Even with the clean cut across her face oozing blood, he was struck by his desire that moved along murder, mercy, and unbearably, _want_. There was a movement in the air, and he was struck to realize the same thing was coursing through her. 

Her saber had retracted, but she clutched the hilt firmly in her hand with her teeth bared in fiery tenacity. Peter gripped his saber, and he took a step forward in encouragement. Before anything else could occur, the ground beneath them broke open. He stumbled as the ground beneath him shook, but remained upright. The crack between them became a divide, ever-growing, until they were separated by a pit of darkness. Across the chasm, their eyes searched each other. 

They had been on the cusp of killing each other, and they’d been stopped. Peter felt the weight of glorious purpose upon him, and he knew that what he and Michelle had both seen in the Force was true. They were enemies for now, but soon, they’d be allies against the same evil. 

Then, lovers. 

Somehow, they were connected, and they had been for a very long time, unbeknownst to each other. And he knew the Force would unfold their intertwined journeys, their intertwined destinies, as it willed. It would bring them together again, and the fate of the galaxy would turn toward light with them both at the forefront.

Michelle would turn, and the Midnight Daughter would be no more.

Until then, Peter would wait.

 _Until we meet again,_ Michelle’s voice rang in his mind. _My_ _enemy, my lover._


End file.
